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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)



All Beings Considered

Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Wild and Unraveling

What Must Be

These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils


the world
in unspoken quiet lies
its breath seems stolen in its place
the distance is perceived
and still it grows
as we stand rooted in our space

the birds deftly calibrate the sky
they're out of reach and far away
clouds rain copiously upon
people trudging down below
they shuffle along
ghost-stepping through their days

the colors of the world are not gone
somehow they stubbornly presist
a growing  hush surrounds us, ecchoes and rebounds
as our lives mechanically attempt to move along
while free-floating time seems to sleep and drift

the colors of the flowers attempt to speak
the language of a renewing spring
but their words no longer understood,
the beauty  of them  almost fails to exist...

a bracing wind blows their petals away...
yet still their blooms bob and bow
moving together in colored waves in the growing breeze
their fragile beauty fails to thrill
the spingtime message of joy faltering
as if diseased

intrepid now is their up-rooted dance of
once fragrant lilacs and golden daffodils.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POE 8:37PM PST 3/26/2020
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED WRITER
MELISSA A. HOWELLS, AND ALSO FRO THIS LEGALLY
COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE: MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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